


blurred faces, warm embraces

by insxne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of dissociation, Minor Injuries, Past Character Death, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Serious Injuries, real sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-05 20:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insxne/pseuds/insxne
Summary: Peter's parents died when he was six years old.He refused to go to their funeral. So, it was all his fault, ten years later, if now he was sobbing on the ground because he had no idea what his mother looked like.





	blurred faces, warm embraces

**Author's Note:**

> can be read with so far by olafur arnalds

Peter’s parents died when he was six years old. He was staying with his Uncle Ben and his Aunt May until they came back.

Except, they never came back. Ben and May tried to explain it to him, but he didn’t really understand (more like he didn’t want to). « Plane crash », they told him, and then they stayed in silence in the living-room, Ben’s head bent towards the floor, May tamponing her eyes with a tissue. Peter didn’t say a word. He waited five minutes, before getting up and going back into his room.

He laid awake all night, imagining the plane high in the sky, flying above everything else. He imagined his parents inside. Then, he pictured the plane diving forward, and he pictured their faces and their screams.

He refused to go to their funerals the next day. He didn’t throw a tantrum. He didn’t shout or cry or begged Ben and May to not go. He just… Stayed in bed, facing away from the door. When May went to wake him up so he could get prepared, he pretended to be asleep (that was stupid : she knew he was awake). But he didn’t move, he didn’t get up. She asked him if he was okay, which he didn’t respond, before sighing, her hands carding softly through his hair. Then, she stood up, and left the room.

He heard her talking to Ben just outside, in the corridor, even if they were whispering.« I don’t think he will go, Ben ». And that was it. Peter kind of expected them to get angry and to force him to go, to barge into his room and yell at him for being selfish.

Now, looking back at it, years later, Peter wished they had. Maybe, then, he could have looked one last time at their faces.

 

* * *

 

Peter didn’t like the rain. In fact, he hated it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He had super-strength, not powers that could control the weather.

It rained the day the policemen knocked at Ben and May’s door to announce them the crash of Richard and Mary Parker.

He hated the way the water drops hit the glass of the window. He hated the smell of it, he hated the way it soaked through his clothes, he hated it, he  _hated it._

It rained the day May and he buried Ben into the ground. He couldn't even tell what was causing the dampness of his cheeks.

May was crying, too, hugging herself tightly. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, before squeezing his shoulder and walking away. Peter stayed there a long time, until he couldn't feel his own hands anymore ; but when he glanced down at them, all he could see was the blood incrusted under his nails. 

It was raining today too. Maybe that's why, instead of going to school like he should, he found himself in the cemetery, staring at the grave. Grey, cold, strange. 

(He remembered standing here long after everyone else had left, he remembered looking up from his hands, and thinking "here it comes : punishment.")

Then, he left. He didn't really acknowledge where he went next : all he knew was that he needed to get away as far as possible from this place. He ignored Ned's constant texts and calls, ignored the feeling of guilt digging his stomach. 

When May's name appeared on the screen, he simply turned off his phone, and threw up on his feet. 

He felt weird, at the same time feverish and cold, as if his mind had locked himself inside of his body. He registered himself taking off his shoes and socks and putting them in his backpack, wrapped up in a plastic bag. The ground was wet under his bare feet. 

He walked back home like that, his mind a mess of white noises  and dark clouds. By the time he got to his apartment, the sun was beginning to set behind the tall buildings of the city. 

It was still raining. 

When he stepped inside, he was met by a strong hug of a sobbing May, and was almost thrown off balance. He should have felt regret, or pain because of the way she was crushing him in her embrace, but he didn't. He was here, and at the same he wasn't. Glancing above her shoulder, he caught sight of Tony Stark, sitting on the couch and looking at him strangely. Oh. May must have called him and asked him to come. Why ?

Then, May leaned back and started screaming, asking him where he went and why he was bare feet when it was raining and freezing and if he had any idea about how worried she had been. 

Peter didn't know what to say. He got grounded for two weeks. No week-ends at the compound, no hangouts with Ned after class. 

Just like the day his parents died, he waited in silence under Mr. Stark and her eyes, who were probably waiting for him to say something. He simply turned away, went back into his room, and after closing the door, he laid down on his bed. He could hear May and Mr. Stark talking quietly in the living-room, the same way Ben and she had, many, many years ago, after a plane had crashed. 

He closed his eyes and buried his head in his pillow, hoping it would be enough to suffocate himself. 

Exactly like the day his parents died. 

 

* * *

 

The next day, he woke up at the same moment Mr. Stark came into his room. They stared at each other, almost warily, until Mr. Stark sat on the bed by his side, looking almost thoughtful. 

"Where's May ?" Peter asked, playing absently with his sheets. 

"Went to work." Mr. Stark answered. "Asked me to keep an eye on you. She was pretty upset yesterday. One of your friends called her because you didn't show up at school. She thought you were with me, so she called me." He pried Peter's fingers off the sheets gently. "You want to tell me where you went ? No Vulture 2.0 situation I should know of ?" 

In any other situation, Peter would have laughed a little and ramble nervously about  _no, of course not, Mr. Stark_ , but it wasn't any other situation. 

"Kid ?" Mr. Stark said, his voice softer than Peter had ever heard him. "Wanna tell where you were, uh, buddy ?"

 _Yes_ , Peter thought.  _No. The cemetery._

"I threw up on my shoes", he blurted out instead, miserably. 

Mr. Stark's eyebrows frowned in confusion, probably not understanding where this was coming from, and Peter felt like he was going to throw up again. 

He looked up at Mr. Stark. "Can we watch a movie ?" He asked in despair. 

Mr. Stark sighed. "Sure, Underoos." 

The billionaire chose some very boring movie, probably hoping that Peter would fall asleep, but the man ended up doing it first. Peter made sure he was sleeping, and then started crying. 

 

* * *

 

For two weeks, Peter obediently went to school every day in the morning, only to immediately come back home right after classes eded. He did his homework, built some Legos alone, then cooked some meal for himself and May, eventually putting hers in the fridge when she didn't come back home.

He felt numb.

For two weeks, he wasn't allowed to patrol, nor was he allowed to spend the week-end at the compound, but that didn't mean he got no interaction with Mr. Stark. It seemed even like he was trying to put more into their relationship, texting him almost everyday, asking him how was school, saying that he had almost developed a liquid that could dissolve the webs, promising they would work on it and test it out as soon as Peter wasn't grounded anymore. 

For two weeks, it rained every day. 

He sat down on the couch, turning the TV on. He didn't feel like playing Legos. In fact, he didn't feel like doing anything at all, but it wasn't like he really had a say, right ? 

 _La La Land_ was on the channel, so Peter kept it and watched as Seb and Mia started to drift apart from each other. And because he was a teenager with enhanced metabolism and fucking hormones, and all the facts that he was an emotional and fucked up orphan, he actually starting sobbing when Seb tried to apologise to Mia for not going to her show. 

That’s when his phone started ringing. Peter picked it up and looked at the screen. Mr. Stark was calling, and Peter had to pick up otherwise Mr. Stark was going to think he was doing Spider-Man and he would tell May and-

“Hello ? You there, kid ?” 

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” Peter answered, voice raw and shaky. He could almost hear Mr. Stark frowning. 

“Are you crying ?” 

Peter wipes his eyes with his sleeves, sniffing, and shook his head even though Mr. Stark couldn’t actually see him. He couldn’t stop watching his parents say goodbye to him and promising they would be back in a few days, except they lied because they never came back, that’s what Uncle Ben had said, that they were in the sky now, and Peter had asked if that meant their plane got lost, but Ben had said no and explained that their plane had crashed, and the only thing Peter could think of was that story his mother had told him, about a boy named Icarus and his father Dedale ; how they had flown in the sky, but Icarus had gone to high and lost his wings and fallen in the sea. When he had asked Ben if that was what had happened to his parents, Ben had smiled sadly and told him yes, and Peter had argued during a long time that he was going to build a machine to go underwater to he could bring them back. 

“Pete ?” 

“It’s just, this is so unfair, Mia worked so hard for her show and people tell her it’s shit and Seb doesn’t even go, and-and, I don’t know, they’re supposed to be in love but Seb was an asshole, and Icarus was so, so stupid, by the way, he should have just listened to his father but he didn’t and he fall, and now, Dedale is so alone and-” Oh God he was rambling. He was word vomiting and sobbing everything he had in his head to Iron fucking Man. 

“What the hell are you talking about ?” Mr. Stark explained, finally cutting him. 

Peter buried his face into his hands, feeling like he was going to die from asphyxiation. “I don’t know”, he mumbled. “I don’t know.” He repeated, and then burst out into tears properly. 

On the other end, Mr. Stark seemed completely lost. 

“I’m sorry I skipped school.” Peter blurted out, even if there was a thousand things he wanted to apologise for, like being responsible for Ben’s death, for being a burden to May who didn’t even want a kid in the first place, for not showing up at his parents’ funeral. “I-I, I’m really sorry.” 

“Hey, stop worrying about this, okay ? It’s in the past. You’re not the first kid to skip school, it’s not dramatic.” Mr. Stark said, voice calm and even. “But the way, I talked to May, and she agreed that you could come tomorrow at the compound for the night. I’ll have Happy come get you at your home, okay ?” 

“Okay”, Peter murmured. He felt exhausted. 

“And, Pete”, he added, voice gentle. “I know I’m not the best person for you to talk with, but-” Peter head another voice on the phone ; someone probably asking Mr. Stark a question. “Crap, uh, look, I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay ?” And before Peter could answer, he hung up. 

Peter put back his phone on the sofa, feeling numb all over. He stared back at the TV until the end-credits appeared, and turned the TV off, before going back into his room. 

He couldn't even say how the movie had ended. 

 

* * *

 

Peter was woken up the day after that by the sound of raindrops tapping quietly against his window. He sighed, and closed his eyes, burrowing himself under the covers.

The appartement was strangely silent, except for the sounds of the outside. May must have already gone to work. Peter didn't even hear her come home last night. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she's never coming back, like his and his parents.    

And it was raining. How funny would that be, if today would be the day he finally becomes truly alone.

He buried himself even more under the covers, his hands curling into fists to stop them from shaking. 

_rain rain rain why i don't want to go to the funeral no it's raining please uncle ben don't leave_

On his nightstand, his phone began to ring. He ignored it and closed his eyes, trying to find a way to stop hearing everything. 

He wanted the rain to disappear, he wanted it to stop. He wanted Ben to hold him and let him cry on his shoulder, he wanted his parents to come back home, he wanted his mum to tuck him in his bed and tell him a story that was not about people getting lost in the sky or crashing into the sea. 

His phone rang another time. 

He wanted his mother. As childish and plaintive that sounded, he wanted his mother to be here with him. He wanted her to see his science project and tell him that she was proud of him. He wanted her to smile at him with that special smile, the one that...

Peter gasped, choked on a shaky breath, eyes wide open. He couldn't remember what her smile looked like. What colors were her eyes, already ? Brown ? No, green. Or were they grey ?

He startled when he heard someone knocking at the door of the apartment. He waited, his heart beating madly against his ribcage, sweat sliding down his forehead and his back. Who could it be ? May had the keys, and, besides, she had a long shift today. What if-what if it was policemen ? What if something awful had happened to May, and they were here to announce it, and then they would take him away and-

"Kid ! You in there ? I've been waiting for fifteen minutes, I hope you had a good reason for that ? And why aren't you picking up the phone ? Aren't you teenagers supposed to be on it all day ?"

Happy. Peter remembers distantly Mr. Stark telling him that he would have the man pick him up and drive him to the compound. Still, he made no move to let the other know that he was here, or to  even get up. He simply curled up deeper under the covers, holding his breath, even if Happy had no way to hear him. 

There was another knock at the door, but, after five minutes, Happy finally left. 

Peter released a loud sigh of relief. 

 

* * *

 

He dreamt of the day his parents left him to Ben and May to go on some kind of trip. 

His mother knelt in front of him, her hands gently squeezing her shoulders. She puts a strand of his hair behind his ear and kisses his forehead. 

"It'll be just for a couple of days." She tells him, smiling, but her smile seems sad. "We'll be gone and back here in a blink. And then you Dad and I will take you to Coney's Island, okay ?"

Peter nodded. He understood. It wasn't the first time his Mum and Dad left him to his Aunt and Uncle because they had to travel. 

"Can we get coton candy ? When we'll go to Coney's Island ?" 

She had smiled, her eyes shining strangely. “Of course we will”, she had promised, so Peter had smiled too, and hugged her, circling his arms around her neck and pressing his face into her hair. She smelled something like perfume and cookies, but maybe it was just the smell of Uncle Ben and May’s home. 

“I’m gonna miss you, Mummy.” He had said. She had chucked, a sound at the same happy and sad, wet. 

“My sweet, little boy.” She had murmured in his ear. “I’m gonna miss you too.” Then, she had pulled back and wiped her eyes, sniffing. Peter wondered why she looked like she was going to cry. There was no reason to cry, right ? Besides, adults didn’t cry. Was he the one making her sad ? 

But she had smiled at him, ruffled his hair a bit and told him to go say goodbye to his Dad. Peter had nodded and ran towards to hug his legs fiercely, babbling about rollercoasters and cotton candy. 

The next day, when a policeman knocked at their door, Peter learned that adults _did_  cry. 

He learned that they died, too.

 

* * *

 

May was the one who woke him up. When he glanced at the window, he saw that it was already dark outside. 

May was looking at him with big worried eyes, sitting in the edge of his bed, squeezing lightly at his hand. He couldn’t hold her gaze, for some unknown reason, and stared up at the ceiling, feeling his throat contracting. 

“Stark called. You were supposed to go to the compound. He said you didn’t respond to Happy’s phone calls or texts, didn’t open the door, didn’t tell anything to anyone. Did you stay in bed all day ?” She asked, her voice soft and gentle. As if she was afraid he would break like glass. 

Peter tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t go away, and it felt like his lungs were caving and he couldn’t breathe. 

“What’s wrong, honey ?” She assed, chasing away some curls off his forehead. 

He felt tears roll down on his cheeks. “Why did thy not take me with them ?” 

May looked at him, eyebrows furrowing, like he didn’t understand what he was saying. “Who are you talking about ?” 

“Mum and Dad”, he answered, his voice shaking. “Why did they not take me with them ? Did they not want me ?” 

Tears slid down May’s face as well. “Oh, honey, no, no. Why would you think that ?” 

“They left me.” Peter murmured, and May let out a broken sob. 

He was making her cry. He was always making her cry. He was always making everyone cry. 

He made his mother sad the day she left. He made Ben sad and angry and disappointed the day he died (he got him killed). Maybe he was the one who made the rain fall. Maybe somewhere up in the sky, his mother and his father and his Uncle Ben were weeping at him, making the clouds tear up above his head. 

 

* * *

 

“Kid. I know you were home when Happy came to pick you up. Your aunt told me you just weren’t feeling good, and I dont believe that’s just it for a second. I don’t know what’s going on, but, guess what, you don’t get to shut me out of it, Underoos. You better call me back.”

beep

 

* * *

 

Peter had a list. A really unhealthy, fucked up list, but a list nonetheless. A list about the worst days of his life. At the first place stood his parents and Uncle Ben’s deaths. In second place, was the first day he went to school after his parents died. More precisely, the day when his teacher asked the class to write something that they’ll have to read to everyone about their parents’ jobs. She must have not been informed of Peter’s... situation. Because, when he had come to her at the end of the class and asked her if she could give him another assignment, she had looked at him weird, like he had said the dumbest thing in the world, and asked him why she would do that. Peter had found himself unable to say anything, and had just walked out to his next class. 

A week later, he ended up crying his eyes out, locked inside of the bathroom, because he had described Iron Man as his father when the teacher had asked him to read his homework, and everyone had laughed at him. 

 

* * *

 

When he was seven, Uncle Ben had brought him to some kind of fair before Christmas, and Peter got to eat a lot of candies and chocolates. But, most of all, he got to sit on Santa’s knees. 

“What would you like for Christmas, kiddo ?” Santa had asked with warm eyes, his big, white beard, and his red clothes. 

“I’d like for my parents to come back” Peter had answered, and did not miss the  way Santa’s smile had turned sad, or how Uncle Ben had turned around to hide his face. 

 

* * *

 

“Pete, this is really not funny. I mean, I know you’re not trying to make a prank or whatever kids do this way. But, just call me, alright ? I’m getting grey hair because of you, you really should be ashamed of yourself. I mean, I’m just kidding, alright. I don’t know what’s happening, so I’d really like if you could just, you know, tell me. And then... Look, just, call me back.”

 

* * *

 

He couldnt remember what his mother looked like. He couldn’t remember the features of her face, as he sat under the steam of the shower, gasping and struggling to breath. He could feel the bruises throb in his sides and back, little gift of four drug dealers he had to arrest. Well, that, and the stabbing wound in his tight, painful, bloody and ugly. But it would heal, eventually. He would get to patch up, to be scarless, when his insides felt torn apart, broken and left to rot. He would get to live, to go on about his life, when his parents’ had stopped at the crash of an airplane. When Ben’s has stopped at a gunshot. He would get to love, and they wouldn’t. Exactly like hundreds, thousands of people around the world. 

Peter curled up on himself and started sobbing without a noise, gasping silently at nothing, his whole body shuddering despite the warmth of the water. 

He couldn’t remember his mother. He couldn’t. He couldn’t remember her smell, her hair, her voice. 

He couldn’t remember anything, besides a blurry face with warm colors. 

He shut the shower and got out of it, shaking like a leaf. He opened the drawer, took a tower and wrapped himself in it, sitting on the ground, where he continued to tremble. 

He had no parents. He had no Mum, no Dad, because they died when he was six years old in a stupid plane crash.

He refused to go to their funeral. So, it was all his fault, ten years later, if now he was sobbing on the ground because he had no idea what his mother looked like.

 

* * *

Like any other days for the past weeks, he had a shitty day. Well, this time, he had a shitty day at school.

First, he forgot that he had a presentation to do in Spanish. He apologised to the teacher and told him that he had just forgotten it, but the man still put him a zero. 

Then, Flash, as always, tried to humiliate him during gym, then during chemistry. He had been so personal in his attacks that Peter had started to feel miserable. 

Well, more miserable than he already was.

Until he had snapped. 

It wasn’t his fault. 

It wasn’t. 

It wasn’t. 

Okay ?

 

”Hey, Penis. Why the sad look ? Did Stark finally kick you out of this internship of yours ? Wait, I forgot. You don’t actually have an internship. You just made it up.”

Peter sighed. It wasn’t the first time the other boy bothered him with that, trying to get him to admit that he was lying about the internship, when he really wasn’t. 

“But maybe you really have an internship. No, that’s impossibke, why would they hire a loser like you ? I mean, even your parents realised that and left you behind.” 

This time, he froze. Every muscle of his body stilled and tensed up, in the verge of snapping, likes hair band you pulled hard. 

“What did you just say ?” 

Even he was surprised by how cold his voice sounded. But this was a real, real low blow. Even for Flash. 

“Oh, don’t get your pants in a twist, Parker. Just kidding around with ya’.” Flash jokes, brushing it off. Peter felt his heart beat against his ears, loud and fast, and he could feel his blood boil in his veins. 

Peter stood up, pulling his stuff back into his bag, ignoring the teacher who told him to sit back down. 

“Don’t worry, Ma’am, he’s just running away to hide in his Mum’s skirt.” Flash said, laughing cruelly. “Oh, right. You don’t have one.” 

“Flash !” The teacher exclaimed, scandalised. 

Peter could feel all eyes on him. His heart beat faster and faster and faster, almost hitting his chest. 

_boum boum boum boum boum bou-_

His fist collided so hard with Flash’s jaw that the other fell out on the ground off his chair, nose bleeding dramatically. He could hear gasps of stupor, and then the teacher screaming his name, before he dove in, punching Flash again, and again, and again. 

Everything went black. 

And then, white. 

 

When he came back too, he was standing in the middle of the class. The teacher and the others were looking at him with wide eyes full of fear and astonishment. At his feet, Flash’s face was bloody and he was murmuring incoherent things, eyes glassy. 

Peter did the only he could think of. 

He ran. 

He didn’t bother grabbing his bag, he just fled out of the room, in the corridor, and finally outside. He felt sick in the stomach, he felt sick everywhere, he wanted it to stop, to stop-

“Underoos !” 

Peter’s eyes snapped open. Tony was standing in front of him, leaning back against an Audi. 

And he didn’t look really happy. 

“Get in the car. Now.” 

Peter did as he was told, and sat at the back of the car, not even putting his seatbelt on. 

Tony drove, and stayed silent, while Peter refused to look at him and stared down at his knuckles, registering numbly how they were bruised. 

He fucked up. 

Oh, God, he fucked up. Maybe Flash was right. Maybe he was right, maybe his parents did leave him behind because they had enough with him. 

Someone tapped against his window. He looked up, and saw Mr. Stark looking at him, outside of the car. The driver seat was empty. 

Oh. They were at the compound. 

He heard a distant voice in his head wonder why they were here. Maybe Mr. Stark wanted the suit back. Peter would give him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it at all. He was a bad son, he was a bad nephew, he made everyone he loved suffer. 

He made them cry. And die. 

He blinked, and realised he was sitting inside, at the table kitchen, while Mr. Stark was typing something on his phone. Peter didn’t remember walking there. Or even sitting. 

He didn’t remember his mother’s face. 

“Some incredible shit you put there, kid. You ignore my calls or any of my messages, don’t give even one sign of life, and now you almost beat a kid to death.”

Peter remained silent. Outside, it was started to rain. 

His stomach was turning and getting heavier inside of his body, as if it wanted to get out. He felt like he was going to throw up. He felt like he was going to scream. He felt like he was going to cry. 

He wanted to. 

“Okay, this silent thing ends right now. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong.” Mr. Stark said, voice firm and dry. 

“I hate the rain.” Peter muttered. Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow. 

“What ?” 

Peter heaved, choking on nothing but oxygen, but it felt like it was burning his lungs. He buried his face into his hands. 

“I can’t remember what my mum looks like”, he finally lets out. 

He thought it would be a relief. To finally admit it to someone. Instead, it only made it more awful, dread filling his body, because it only made it more real. 

“I-I, they died. And I-I didn’t go to their funerals.” 

He couldn’t look at Tony’s face. 

“I didn’t go to their funerals, and-and, and now I can’t temember my Mum’s face. I can’t remember if her eyes were blue or brown or what she smelled like or the way she smiled or-”

“Hey, breathe.” 

Peter inhaled loudly. He was shaking.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Mr. Stark’s, he thought. Who could it be ? 

“I’m so sorry.” He sobbed, quietly. “I’m awful, I can’t even remember my own mum’s face, and I refused to go to their funeral.” He shook his head. God, he was pathetic. “And Flash said that there was a reason I didn’t have parents, that I’m the one who drove them away, and maybe that’s true, Mr. Stark, mayb-”

“Shut up.” 

He was so shocked he glanced up at Mr. Stark. The man was staring at him with some fierce eyes. 

“You’re going to listen to me very well, alright ? This, your parents, is not your fault. I’m sure as hell that they loved you, because you’re this wonderful kid who just manages to make everyone love him. I don’t want you questioning it again, you hear me ?” 

Peter nodded a little, looking down. 

“And this kid Flash, he can go fuck yourself. You had every right no to want to go to the funerals, alright ? You were six years old. It’s normal. I was more than three times your age when...” he seems to hesitate. “When my mine died, and I almost didn’t go to theirs.” He took a breath, stopping a second, before continuing. “You don’t have to do everything perfectly, okay ? And even if you don’t, that doesn’t mean it’s bad. No one expects you to remember your mum’s face after ten years. I don’t, your aunt doesn’t, no one does.” 

 Peter sniffed, smiling a little. "I know, it's just... I'm sorr-"

"Tut" Mr. Stark cut him. "Stop apologising. Here's the plan. Jarvis is going to make us snacks and hot chocolates, and we're gonna sit in the living-room, and then you're gonna tell me everything that is going on in your head. And every time I hear you say "I'm sorry", you're gonna have to let me buy you something. Deal ?"

Peter smiled, wetly, but a smile nonetheless. "Deal".

And, before he could move, Mr. Stark was hugging him, tucking Peter's head under his chin, his left hand carding gently through his hair. Peter felt warmth spread all over him, and he felt like, if he could, he would never moved from Mr. Stark's arms. For the first time in weeks, he felt safe.

For the first time in weeks, he felt like he was right where he should be. And that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was my first work about their relationship. I really wanted to catch Peter grieving his parents and having a hard time about their death even ten years after, and Tony helping him because really, they're so similar.   
> So, I really hope I managed to catch the alchimy of their relationship, or whatever it is called. Please, let me know what you thought of it, feedback is really apreciated !


End file.
